


Remember

by omentastic



Category: Taboo (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-22
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2018-09-26 07:19:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9873179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/omentastic/pseuds/omentastic
Summary: The League of the Damned? She'd have laughed if it weren't so true. Everyone was damned, it's just that some were getting there quicker. The Company, the Crown, the Americans...oh but Delaney, the devil in a black hat, now there was someone who might make her damnation desirable. Set during season one, some spoilers, lots of swearing, violence and the other





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this story, it’s definitely a work in progress and I’ve not got the story worked out at all. However, I’ve spent the past 7 weeks pondering just how hot a black hat and coat could actually be and this is the result. It sort of follows the story with bits and pieces moved and changed and clearly Nan is a new character. I LOVE this programme and the characters and I’m really looking forward to seeing how this series ends. There are some spoilers if you’ve not watched all the episodes but I don’t think it’ll matter. Please let me know what you think you can.

Chapter 1

Remember. 

Remember.

Witchcraft; the word followed her like a loyal dog…or the stink of disease depending on how she felt at any particular moment. People crossed over to avoid her until they needed her and then they knocked in the middle of night or pounded the door in the daylight or crept up to her; need made even the cowardly bold.

She kicked open the peeling wooden door and dropped the basket on the table. The stupid girl had let the fire go out again.

“Comfort! Comfort!” The place was empty but shouting made her feel better. 

Unwinding her woollen scarf, her breath clouded in the darkened room and, not for the first time, did she wish she was back home. The reek of the river curled through the wooden walls and even her herbs and potions couldn’t mask it. She lit the candles and set about laying the fire.

Once it was burning and the water was heating, she sat down at the table and poured out the sand. Staring at the flame, she let her finger begin tracing the random patterns that would tell her everything she needed to know. 

The water had nearly boiled away when she blinked and looked down to see the clear outline of a bird in the sand. She hissed quietly between her teeth and went to make the tea.

 

James Keziah Delaney, current scourge of society, hated and hunted by King and Company, stalked through the streets like a living embodiment of the Devil. This moniker suited him and his desires, it kept people frightened and away from him. Walking through the door, he saw the whisper of fear cross Helga’s face but she tamped it down and waited for his next decree.

“Get me the captain of the Ardent” he rasped. Helga gaped but he simply stared.

“I can’t. I don’t know where he is.” She hissed.

“He comes here to use Mary. He likes to be beaten with a birch switch. He was last here 2 weeks ago. Get me this man.” He said in a monotone.

“Yes, he comes here” Helga snapped, “but I don’t know where he is when he’s not here.”

“Who does?” 

Helga shook her head and Delaney threw a gold coin onto the counter. She watched it like a cat and finally her head won over her heart. She sighed.

“You could try the witch” she said and was startled when he stepped back as though she’d slapped his face.

“Witch?” he asked searching her face for a lie.

“Yes a witch, Kräuterhexen…a wise woman. She can treat the pox…amongst other things. He has been to her, he was desperate; she might know where Captain Carew is.” Delaney turned to go but she grabbed his wrist, he growled but she refused to let go.

“Be warned. This time, be warned. She is not what she seems. If you step carelessly with her terrible things will happen…I’ve seen it. She is the daughter of The Erlking…” Helga trailed off into unintelligible German but he caught “krapkahe”…black crow.

“Where do I find her?” but Helga refused to answer. She still gripped his wrist so he twisted until he was holding her. He squeezed until she winced.

“She lives by the jetty leading to Oliver’s Island” 

He didn’t wait to hear what else she said, he was gone in a swirl of black cloth.

 

“Where the fuck have you been?” she snapped as the door opened and Comfort slunk in.

“I wanted to see the mermaid” the girl answered sullenly.

“And did you?”

“Yes” she said and scuttled over to the fire.

“Did she say anything?”

“No” said Comfort with a laugh, “just bubbles”

Turning back to the pot, she permitted herself a small smile. The girl was simple and she appreciated simple. It didn’t question, it didn’t judge and it was mostly quiet even when it made a din. A gust of wind caught the latch, making it rattle. She turned.

The door burst open and a murder of crows screamed into the room. They flew around the space, filling it with darkness, feathers, noise. Someone was in the middle of them, a woman, black hair, white face, a screech of madness. She was the birds and the birds were her.

Salish. Salish. Salish. 

Comfort watched her mistress fall to the floor, holding her head but then went back to the fire; she’d seen it all before. 

“We’re going to have a visitor” she croaked, heaving herself up from where she fell, “get the rum.”

He patted the white horse and whispered in its twitching ear before making his way down the rough path towards the hut set back from the foreshore. It was built from dark wood with a coarse, shingled roof. Smoke curled from the chimney, twisted like an old man’s back. A sheep’s skull hung from a rotting post, turning on its string, empty eyes watching the path. A crow flapped lazily towards the river.

He knocked the door and it opened. He walked into the relative warmth of the room and had to wait for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, the only light was coming from the fire in the brick hearth on the other side of the table. The green glass of the rum bottle filtered the light to look like the sea.

“Sit” came a voice from the shadows.

“Where is Captain Carew?” he asked, searching the darkness, trying to see who was speaking.

“Sit” the voice repeated.

“Tell me where Captain Carew is”

“No”

Delaney threw a bag of coins onto the table, the solid thunk was muffled in the thick shadows.

“Captain Carew”

“Take that gold shit off my table and put it away.” A patch of shadow detached itself from the rest and moved into the light. A woman of about his age, shapeless clothes, white skin, straight backed with a dark stare as piercing as his own.

“Answer my question” his tone was dangerous.

“No. Rum?” she poured two cups and sat down with her back to the fire. He waited and watched her watching him. Finally, he sat down and placed his hat on the table.

They sat in the crackling quiet.

“You are a witch” he stated and she nodded.

“And you are James Delaney, the devil who came back from the dead.”

They sat in silence.

“I wish to know where Captain Carew resides when he is not at the whorehouse.”

“How much did you pay Helga that she would tell you about this place I wonder.” She sat back and the fire haloed her copper hair.

“What do you want for the location of Carew?” Delaney asked.

“Nothing. I don’t want anything you can give me.” His face set hard and his eyes bored holes into her silhouette and she remained unmoved, “but what is it you want?” She asked this to herself, “you smell like revenge…that’s not all of it though...love perhaps? No, that’s not it either. Greed? Power?”

Her brow creased as she tried to find the answer and he continued to stare at her. She sighed in temporary defeat and poured more rum.

“So you’ll not get Carew from me, you can’t buy me and you don’t seem to want anything else. Why are you still sitting here?” she asked mildly.

He remained silent 

“What do you see when you stare into the water?” she asked suddenly and the cup shattered in Delaney’s hand. 

“Perhaps that is a question for another time” she said wryly as the rum dripped off the edge of the table.

He gave her a hard stare but she remained unmoved. The man in front of her was not unknown in one respect; she’d come across men like solitary oysters throughout her life. But she could sense the force emanating from him like wind in sails, she’d never known a man who had this sort of power and very few women. There was a shape just over his shoulder, hovering and waiting to be called forth. She didn’t know what it was but she knew where it came from, having skirted the edge a long time ago, and she didn’t like the taste of it.

Delaney felt her eyes on him. He could tell she wasn’t scared of him; he doubted anything scared her. He could’ve…should’ve made her tell him where that fucking captain was but something told him it would lead to more trouble than even he had an appetite for. How did she know about the water? 

“What is your name?” he asked and she paused.

“I’m known as Nan” she replied but she could tell by the tilt of his head he knew this wasn’t all.

“What is your real name?”

“For another time as well.” Her mouth set in a firm line.

“Why did you ask me about the water?” he asked after another stream of silence.

“I see things, I know things, I want to know if she visits you like she visits me.” Nan said.

“She does visit me.” Delaney nodded almost to himself.

“She is as hungry as you are. She…drains me.” Nan tossed back the rum, poured another and then pushed the mostly empty bottle towards him.

“What does she want from you?” he asked drinking straight from the bottle.

“I wish I knew, then I could give it to her and she’d leave me alone.”

He grunted but said nothing.

“You want the captain of the Ardent because you think he knows the whereabouts of the shipment of, amongst other things, 25 Harpers Ferry pistols taken from a captured American frigate.” She stated calmly.

He stared at her, eyes glittering in the fire.

“Unfortunately, the Crown realised Captain Ardent was a fool and moved the shipment to a safe place. He doesn’t know.” She sipped more rum.

“Who does?” he asked.

“You’d have to ask the King but I’m not sure he’d tell you. Now, that is all I know.” And she stood up as an indication their time was over.

He stood up and took the gold off the table. Placing his hat on his head, he moved towards her and she didn’t step back. Leaning into her, he searched her face.

“No, that’s not all you know. We will meet again.” He said quietly. She could see how the African sun had coloured his skin, she could smell the river on him, she could hear the voices trying to be heard. 

“You are only human Mr Delaney, remember that.” she breathed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their paths cross again with blood, pain and intrigue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you for reading this and please let me know what you think.

Nan pulled the covers closer round her. The ever-present chill from the river made every room damp and cold. Curse this hut, curse the river, curse this city and curse her fucking mother. Curse it all and be damned. She heard the distant church bells chime twelve and sighed, sleep would be a long time coming again.

The pounding on the door had her on her feet before she was even fully awake. She grabbed the curved knife from the table and pushed Comfort into the back room. If it was those bastard Protestants again she’d slit their throats and let the river take them. 

“What do you want?” she shouted.

“I’m from Barts, Dr Dumbarton sent me. He needs your help” the quivering voice sounded too young to be making such a racket at her door.

“Tell him I said he should go and fuck himself. I’m not interested in his intrigues” she said.

“Please miss, Dr Dumbarton said to say a man’s been sliced. Dr Dumbarton said to tell you it’s the man what came to see you today. Dr Dumbarton said to say that if he carks it so’ll your sister…” the boy stopped talking and waited, shivering. It was freezing and he was scared out of his wits. He knew it was a witch’s house and he didn’t have a cross or nothing. The other boys had told him if the witch caught him, she’d turn him into a goose and cook him. He wasn’t entirely convinced they were telling the truth until the cart had stopped outside the hut and then he was sure in his very bones that he wasn’t walking out of this one with all his bits in the right place. He’d more scared of the doctor when he was back at the hospital but now he was all ready to take to his boots and not stop running until he reached Hounslow or somewhere equally as foreign.

Suddenly the door opened and the witch came out. The boy fair near pissed himself when he saw her.

“Did Dr Dumbarton say anything else?” she asked. The boy shook his head, too afraid to speak. 

As the cart rumbled off towards Smithfield, Nan pulled her coat closely round her. She knew that bloody American wouldn’t leave it at just one payment for her sister’s life, she should’ve killed him when she had the chance. Again, she cursed her mother for leaving her in this position.

After 10 miles, over potholed roads with nothing but the mute driver and a petrified boy for company, Nan was ready to let everyone die and be done with it. The sky was turning grey in the pre-dawn as she dropped from the cart with little grace and followed the boy through the gates and down into the belly of the hospital. The smell was acrid and sour, as if the place had been flooded with piss.

“He’s still trying to fix the dye in his bloody flags then?” she asked, but the boy remained silent.

After fighting her way through the dripping swathes of fabric, she found the doctor with his patient strapped to the table.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d come.” Dumbarton said.

“You didn’t leave me much of a choice.” Nan replied, leaning over her patient. She didn’t bother to ask how he knew Delaney had visited her that day or why he needed to be saved; she wouldn’t get a straight answer and didn’t care anyway.

“What happened?” she asked as she pulled up Delaney’s shirt to inspect the wound. It was deep and jagged; the blood was already pooling under the table. She lifted up his eyelids and checked his pulse; it was strong even with the amount of blood he’d lost.

“An assassin. Mr Delaney here is a very popular man” Dumbarton watched as Nan shrugged off her coat and rolled up the sleeves of her shirt.

“Do you have the knife?” and inspected the dagger used on the man she’d met not 12 hours ago and who was now bleeding all over her boots.

“I’ll need needle, thread, alcohol, clean cloth” she said and the boy rushed to get what she asked for.

“You seem well” Dumbarton said, trying to initiate a conversation with the woman he’d not been able to get out of his thoughts, as they waited for the boy to return.

“And you said you’d leave me alone after our last dealing” Nan turned to look at the American. 

Dumbarton, a man who’d chosen to live in the very dangerous position of a spy because he fervently believed in the independence of his fellow countrymen, a man who lived with the shadow of the painful death of a traitor every day, stepped back from the woman in front of him. She reminded him of a mountain lioness that’d taken his horse from under him back home. It’d killed the horse with one swipe of its claws as he’d fumbled for his gun and then it’d turned to him. He’d stared into its green gold eyes and waited for it to leap and he’d thought how beautiful death could be.

“The fight for freedom necessitates sacrifices” he said with more conviction that he felt in that moment.

“It’s not my freedom and it’s not my sacrifice” Nan answered.

“No…but it’s your sister’s” he said and took another step back as he saw anger course through her. The return of the boy with the supplies broke the tautness of the room.

“And how much time am I buying back with this” she asked indicating to the prone Delaney.

“3 years” he replied.

“5 or I let him die” she threw back.

“4 years and we move her to a better cell” Dumbarton watched as she reconciled herself with this and nodded.

He closely monitored her work, not because he was afraid she would let Delaney die but because of her skill. He was a doctor as well as a spy and he could appreciate genius when he saw it. First, she poured the alcohol over her hands and the instruments she’d pulled out of her bag. Then she poured some over the wound, ignoring the groan from Delaney. Selecting a pair of long, thin pincers, she pushed them into the wound and opened them to get a better look inside; she slid her finger into the gap and felt around to see if any of the knife was still in there. When she was satisfied, she turned to Dumbarton.

“Pour the alcohol over your hands and then hold the wound open” she instructed and got a clay jar from her bag. She uncorked it and the smell nearly made Dumbarton gag.

“What the hell is that?” he asked as she poured a small amount into the opening. Delaney twisted up and pulled on the restraints but didn’t open his eyes. She laid her hand on his forehead and whispered something Dumbarton couldn’t hear and the man became quiet again. She didn’t answer his question. 

Her fingers traced the tattoos on his front and flank. A straight scar ridged his ribs. The skin was smooth and warm, sweat-slicked and bloody though it was.

“He ripped the assassin’s throat out with his teeth when he killed him” Dumbarton said as Nan wiped away more blood. He was surprised to hear her laugh

“And what shocks you the most I wonder? Is it that a man could do such a thing on London streets or the fact that he didn’t use a knife to do it? All men are savages Dr Dumbarton, it’s just some choose not to cloak it in hypocrisy. The assassin is still dead not matter what the cause.” 

“Do you admire him?” the doctor asked.

“No I don’t admire him. I don’t know him and I don’t want to know him. I’m here because you summoned me and when I leave I will think no more about him or you. You are shadows to me and you’ll soon fade.” 

“If you continue to help us, I could lessen your sister’s sentence even further.” Dumbarton watched her.

“If I continue to help you I’ll be executed for treason.” She said flatly.

“The Crown wouldn’t execute you, you’re too valuable. Work with me…us and…” Dumbarton was aware of a pressure drop in the room and he stopped talking.

“Be very careful what you say next” Nan whispered, moving into Dumbarton’s body, the man could feel the heat radiating off her, “be very careful …” He felt his skin, his flesh react to her closeness even in this moment of threat. Her breath on his face was warm, her skin looked like Bernini carved marble, he could touch her but he didn’t want to die. Her mouth curved into a smile and she stepped back

‘Now, make sure he doesn’t move” she instructed and threaded the needle.

He was in the water. He floated in the blue and all was quiet. Suddenly, pain pierced the calm and he was hauled up to the surface.

Nan concentrated on pulling the ragged edges together, the needle sliding through the flesh dragging the thread and then pulling it tight. 

He opened his eyes and took in a breath, pulling on the restraints. He saw the glint of the needle in the sunlight and the reflection from Dumbarton’s glasses.

“Relax Mr Delaney, you’re in safe hands” said the American softly; he glanced past the doctor and saw the copper halo again, “your devil saved you.” Delaney wasn’t sure to whom he was referring. Nan pulled the thread tight and made the next stitch.

“I had you followed. My agent said he saw some unspeakable acts…I had to give him the day off.” And the American laughed lightly. Delaney saw Nan pause and look at him but it wasn’t fear or disgust in her eyes, just a curiosity.

“You can finish sewing him together, I want to go home.” Nan said, handing Dumbarton the needle.

She swilled the blood off her hands and returned to get her coat and bag.

“You take pain like a stone; is that something you picked up in Africa maybe?” She heard Dumbarton say and she had to agree, Delaney made only the slightest noise as the needle went in and out. So, it was Africa she could taste on Delaney, she’d been right. For a moment she was burnt by the orange sun as it hit the sea and watched the strange sea birds wheel above the sail but then it was gone and that was all it had been.

“How many more are left” Delaney rasped and the doctor paused to pour himself a drink. Nan knew this was an unnecessary cruelty to prolong the pain so she took her bag and walked away, already thinking about how to get home.

After Delaney had learned all he could from the doctor he went to leave but something made him turn back.

“Why was she here?” he asked.

“I called for her.” Dumbarton replied.

“Why?”

“Because we need you alive and she is the best there is.” The doctor felt no shame in saying this.

“Why did she come when you called?”

“Because I own her Mr Delaney…I own her.” Dumbarton said.

Delaney stared at the doctor and murmured “You may think you do.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An invitation to a death dance, a little revelation and a potential crossing of paths.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading to chapter 3. It's sort of writing itself at the moment but I'm sure this won't last very long. Please let me know what you think if you can.

“Helga!” Nan yelled, “Helga!”

“What?” she yelled back, walking out onto the frontage; Helga had been dreading this visit.

“You sent a fucking devil to my door, a fucking blue eyed devil and now the fucking Americans are on me again. Whatever he paid you to talk about me it’s not enough.” Helga cowered at the onslaught from Nan. Winter watched from the doorway.

“He owns the rooms I was using, he’s paying for our assistance.” Helga gabbled.

Nan paused and narrowed her eyes.

“Our assistance? Who else is selling their soul?”

Helga paused but she knew it was useless to try and hold out against Nan. It wasn’t that she disliked the witch, almost the opposite but Christ did she scare her.

“Atticus and the crew from the Dolphin…there’s talk of an actress who married old Delaney.”

“For fuck’s sake, the man’s going to get you all killed. I know Atticus is a lunatic but I thought you’d know better.” Nan flopped into a chair and Helga joined her. Both started to fill their pipes.

“He offered us a lot of money and there’s more where that came from.” Helga puffed and watched the street.

“And what does he want in return?”

“Nothing so far; he’s rebuilding the Delaney shipping company…” Helga trailed off in the face of Nan’s hard stare.

“Not just that, he’s mixed up with the Americans which means he mixed up with the fucking East India which means he’s mixed up with the Crown. He’s going to die and so are you.” Nan dragged hard on her pipe and blew out the smoke in frustration.

“The money is very good.” Helga said but Nan just snorted.

Helga had no idea where Nan had come from or what her past was. Helga didn’t normally care about such things but this woman was something different. She carried herself differently from the other wharf rats. She knew about things that where well beyond Helga; she’d been educated. The fact she was a witch seemed almost secondary. She’d travelled beyond the bounds of Europe, Helga was sure of that.

“Be careful, look to your own.” Nan said and pushed herself up.

“What about you?” Helga asked.

“Me? I can look after myself. Look to your own.” And Helga watched as she walked away.

Neither Delaney or Nan thought much about each other over the next few days and weeks. She went about her work, keeping an eye on the road. He carried on executing his plan. His plan to pit the Crown and the Company against each other was working out nicely, even the near sacrifice of his stepmother had been worth it.

Zilpha. He wanted her but she’d rejected him and his letters. He opened the door and crept into her dreams. She moaned and thrashed as he worked his way into her. But then he was blocked…he heard her Christian prayers and suddenly the door slammed shut.

The Crow screamed in the river. 

Then he was back in the wooden hut, with the twisted chimney, standing defiant on the foreshore. He looked down at the bed to see Nan with her eyes open, watching him.

“She closed the door on you.” she stated and he nodded.

“You’re not welcome here.” She said in the same tone.

“I’m not welcome anywhere.” He replied as the light flickered.

The Crow watched from the water.

“Your magic isn’t my magic” she said

“But The Crow wants you as she wants me.” Delaney felt himself begin to slip.

“The Crow can scream all she wants, she’ll not have me.” Nan said and clapped her hands.

James raised his head from the fire.

Remember.

“You got a letter.” Comfort said, sliding it across the table as Nan sipped her tea, “it’s from the eagle.”

Nan cracked the seal and read the invitation.

“What is it?” asked Comfort, unable to contain any of her curiosity.

“An invite to a death dance” replied Nan and went to throw it in the fire but something stayed her hand.

“Go and see” the wind whispered. And who was she to defy the wind?

Dumbarton looked up from a promising batch of dye to see Nan standing in front of him.

“This invitation is your doing.” And he nodded slowly.

“Why?” she demanded.

“James Delaney will be there…a meeting. I need to be there and it would look strange if I attended alone.”

“It will look even stranger if you turn up with me on your arm. The questions it will raise are surely more dangerous than attending alone.” Nan stared at him.

“You will attend with me.” He stated.

She leaned close to him, so close their lips were almost touching.

“I could rip out your soul and keep it in my pocket.” She breathed and he didn’t doubt her, even though he was a rational man.

“If anything happens to me, your sister dies” he forced himself to look at her. She opened her mouth slightly and he felt himself leaning even closer to her but then pulled back.

“4 years” he said.

Nan sighed; this was how she died, her own life slowly chipped away for her sister’s.

“5 years…and I’ll need suitable attire.”

There was more afoot this night than simply a party, Nan could taste it in the air. Christ, she didn’t want to be involved in any of this. She wanted to go home and not to that fucking shack. She forced another pin into the pile of curls on top of her head; she knew it wasn’t fashionable but she’d be damned if she’d spend hours with heated irons, this would have to do. Comfort had gone into paroxysms of delight when the dress had arrived but Nan ignored her. A dress was a dress was a dress. The shimmery red satined like blood in the candle light.

“I don’t know when I’ll be back and I don’t just mean tonight. If I don’t come back, the hut’s yours. Do you understand?” she relaxed as Comfort nodded mutely, at least the girl was provided for. Nan pressed the key into her hand and left.

Dumbarton was waiting for her outside the gate to Barts.

“You…look beautiful” he said but she ignored him and lit a final pipe before they arrived.

They pulled up to the front of the house, lit with torches, along with other guests but they weren’t announced. The Countess Musgrove glided over to them and greeted the doctor as if he were a stranger until it was sure they’d not be overheard. She ignored Nan.

“Are all the arrangements in place?” she asked and Dumbarton nodded.

“I must have the opportunity to talk with him alone, Edgar” she said urgently.

“It’s all been arranged” he said making a placatory gesture. 

“Is this her?” she asked, addressing the doctor and not Nan.

“Yes” he replied and the Countess finally looked her over.

“Your sister is our guest, yes?” she asked acidly but Nan simply stared at her.

“You have an interesting story, my Lady; perhaps you would consider joining the Free Fifteen permanently?” the Countess Musgrove smiled.

“Nan…my name is only Nan.”

The Countess Musgrove tried to hold her stare but couldn’t, she looked away and gave a small laugh.

“Perhaps your sister would be more at home with the title?”

“I’m sure she would but you’d have to kill me first and that’s not going to happen.”

“Oh and why is that?”

“Because the hellfire I would rain down on you if you tried is enough to crush your rebellion before it’s had a chance to accomplish anything.” Nan said quietly and the Countess gasped.

“It’s true, you are a witch.” Nan simply nodded.

‘Your family should have been burnt off the face of God’s earth two centuries ago.” The Countess hissed.

“Yet no one has realized that aim and it certainly won’t be you.” Nan said and looked away, bored with this woman. 

More guests arrived and the Countess plastered a smile on her face and walked away with a swish of expensive silk and fear.

“You make enemies like other people breath.” Dumbarton said and Nan laughed.

“It’s a family trait.” She said.

“You and Delaney are the same.” he said but Nan wasn’t listening, The Crow was in the mirror, watching and waiting.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Temporary truths are told, but they won't last long enough to matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this chapter. Not sure too much happens. I've also indulged in a slight change of character for the American for my own ends. Please let me know what you think, it's always appreciated.

The room began to fill with the cream of society. Nan stood in the corner and thought about how apt that saying was; most of them looked rich, thick and faintly oily. She smiled to herself.

“You’re smiling and you’ve not even partaken of my laughing gas yet” came a voice at her elbow. She looked round to see the capering chemist she’d noticed earlier.

“Mr. Cholmondeley isn’t it?” she asked.

“At your service, Madam” and he doffed his hat to her.

“And what is your opinion of all of this?” she asked making a sweeping gesture at the hot and noisy room.

“For what the Countess is paying me to be here, my opinion is only favourable.”

“Creating laughter where there is nothing to laugh at is magic indeed.” She commented and the chemist smiled knowingly. He then caught sight of something across the room and made his polite excuses. She watched him approach someone in the doorway and wasn’t surprised to see Delaney and a beautiful woman dressed in green enter the room. 

He didn’t look any less dangerous even though he was in much better health that when she’d last seen him. The tightness around his eyes and mouth told her that he didn’t want to be here any more than she did; it was also apparent, from the way he kept looking at his watch or the many clocks in the ballroom, that something was happening outside of the house. 

He must’ve felt her eyes on him because he glanced in her direction. She thought he might have nodded in recognition but decided it was probably a twitch of annoyance at the people attending the party.

“The guest of honour has arrived.” Dumbarton said, handing her a glass of champagne.  
“And he’s brought a companion.” Nan observed.

“Yes, an actress and his stepmother, Miss Lorna Bow.” The doctor took a sip, “what makes this evening more interesting is that his half-sister Mrs Zilpha Geary is also in attendance.” 

Nan made no comment, she had no interest in learning any more than she already knew about Delaney or his connections. Dumbarton, however, continued.

“The gossips would have us believe they were closer than a brother and sister should ever be.” The doctor said this without cadence but Nan had the feeling he was needling for a reaction.

“I am quite certain that is not the greatest crime to have been committed by someone in this room” she said.

The couples began dancing, the room became hotter and the laughter grew more hysterical. Nan felt the air being sucked out of her, the doctor had gone to indulge in subterfuge and she had tried to become as invisible as possible. Various men had asked her to dance and she’d refused, she had no interest in them or their insincerity.

It finally became too much so she slipped through the open door and into the garden. Leaning against a stone pillar, she took a deep breath.

“Your fingers were inside my body”

Christ, the man was as silent as a cat. Delaney emerged from the other side of the pillar and began to fill his pipe.

“And your blood stained my boots” she replied with equal calm.

“You came with the American doctor” Delaney said, giving her an inscrutable look.

“I was given very little choice in the matter.” Nan returned his stare.

“He told me he owns you.” Delaney waited for her reaction.

Nan let out a loud and throaty laugh and then put her hand over her mouth and checked to see if anyone had heard.

“It suits my purpose to let him think that for the moment. These Republicans believe their cause to be so just that nothing else matters; they are like children.”

Delaney grunted and lit his pipe.

“Why does he think he owns you?” Delaney asked and Nan sighed. What harm could it do for this man to know, he’d be dead by next week?

“My sister was captured in Boston, tried and then convicted of spying for the British. She is currently being held at the leisure of James Madison. If I don’t lend my support when requested, they will execute her.” It felt good to tell someone, even it was this mad man.

“And is she a spy?” he asked placidly.

“In all probability, yes. I think my sister could give even your lack of self-regard a run for its money.”

He grunted again and looked out over the garden.

“What will you do about it?” he asked after a moment of silence.

“I haven’t decided yet. I may let her die, I may do as they ask or I may kill them all and burn their independence to the ground, scattering the ashes over the sea.” Nan said this without looking at him but she felt him shift and turn to look at her. She didn’t care.

“There is a robbery happening tonight. Bags of refined saltpetre have been stolen from the warehouses of the East India Company at Wapping Wall by my men who will then take it to my factory where it will be used to make gunpowder.” Delaney watched for her reaction. Nan nodded slowly.

“So the Irish are running out of powder, are they? When do the Americans want delivery?”

“Soon, very soon” he answered.

“But saltpetre cuts the time to four weeks. When did you start?” she asked, her interest genuinely piqued.

“Two days ago.” Delaney said and puffed on his pipe. Nan raised her eyebrows but said nothing.

“Why are you telling me this?” she asked, after another pause.

“Join me and I will negotiate your sister’s release.” He said.

“No.” Nan replied.

“Why?”

“Because you will use me for whatever purpose you need to complete your plan and then discard me just like you will with all the others. I am not stupid or desperate or greedy and I’m not blinded by you.” Nan glared at him and was surprised to see that he didn’t look away, normally it was enough to scare even the most hardened of men.

“No…you’re not” he said, almost to himself, “you see the things I see. I came to you in a dream and you banished me.”  
“Come now Mr Delaney, as you so delicately put it, I’ve been inside you; I know your power that swims under the surface. I know the taste and feel of it. Don’t underestimate me and I will do you the same courtesy. Good luck with your endeavours.” Nan walked back into the stifling room.

Delaney puffed on his pipe and looked at the moon.

Nan had had enough when the drunkard began to cause a commotion on the other side of the room. He approached Delaney who proceeded to drag him outside. She followed with the other guests and watched as the stupid man called Delaney out.

A duel. How ridiculous; men and their guns. Well, someone would die tonight and she found herself hoping it was the drunkard and not Delaney. She was also keenly aware it was unlikely to be Delaney seeing as the Americans needed him alive to deliver the gun powder. That was the trouble with men, they thought all their problems could be solved by shooting at them or blowing them up. She didn’t bother to follow the herd down to the river, instead she found a cushioned bench and lay down, closing her eyes; there was no one but the servants beginning the arduous task of cleaning up.

She was in the river. It was cold and the current was fast flowing. The Crow, with her black dress and white face was on the opposite side, forever calling but never being heard. White painted fingers reached out for her and she let the current take her. She was swept out to sea where the waves turned her to foam and she was at peace.

Dumbarton returned after making sure Delaney lived; it hadn’t been one of their operatives who had ensured no ball was loaded into the repulsive man’s pistol so he assumed it was the East India, who needed Delaney alive almost as much as they did. He saw Nan asleep and softly shook her.

“Time to leave.” He said gently. Nan stretched and took his offered hand without thinking. It was all the American could do not to snatch it back.

“You’re like ice” he said.

“Except I don’t melt with the daylight.” She murmured and followed him out, glad to be leaving.

The carriage rocked over the road, lulling her.

“Delaney lived.” The doctor said, breaking the silence.

“Mmh” Nan answered.

“I thought you would want to know” he added, watching for her reaction.

“Why?” she asked, looking out at the passing fields that would soon turn to London streets.

“You seemed to have a…connection with him.”

Nan remained impassive. The wheel dropped into a deep rut and she fell against the doctor.

“Where will you stay in London?” he asked.

“Somewhere near the docks I should imagine, it’s cheaper.” She replied, not really listening.

“You could stay with me, I have rooms near Barts.” He said tentatively.

“And how much time would that earn me?” she asked, her voice sharp in the morning sunshine.

“I…I didn’t mean…”

“Yes, you did. Come now Doctor, there is no need to be coy. If I return to your rooms with you, how many years would be returned to my sister?”

“There would be no expectations.” He said.

“If I let you watch me undress would that be a year? If I let you touch my skin, run your hand over my shoulder and down would that be two years? If I let you kiss me would that be another six months? If I let you inside would that be a decade?” She leaned closer to him until he could smell her perfume, feel her warmth.

The American was breathing hard, watching her expression.

“How long would I have to stay with you before she was set free?”

“I…I don’t want an exchange” he whispered. Nan’s mouth twitched in triumph.

“I would see her dead and buried before that.” She whispered in return and faced the road once more.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A murder, blood and the need for relief however temporary but she must remember not lose herself....her new self.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter sort of got away from me; there's violence and murder. The ending with the doctor is the bit that surprised me but I wrote it anyway. I *think* it fits into the character and story. To be fair, the story has magic, murder and women who don't instantly faint at the sight of Tom Hardy in a black coat and hat so realism isn't a top priority. Please let me know what you think if you can.

She stepped down from the carriage near to the boundary of Shadwell and watched as it rumbled away. Soldiers were everywhere, the red of the King and the blue of the Company. Deciding it was best to steer clear of Helga’s in light of the successful robbery she was no doubt involved in, Nan wandered the streets in search of cheap rooms.

Arriving at the foreshore, damp and cold, she saw a familiar figure sitting on the stumps.

“Good morning Miss Bow…I beg your pardon…Mrs Delaney.” Nan called and jumped down into the mud to join her. 

“Good morning” she replied looking confused.

“I’m Nan, I was at the very eventful party last night. You attended with Mr Delaney.” Nan stuck out her hand but Lorna just looked at it.

“You won’t find out anything about him from me, I don’t know anything.” She said suspiciously.

“I don’t want to know anything. I’ve met Mr Delaney twice…no, three times and during one of those times I sewed up a knife wound in his side; we’re not exactly friends.”

“She’s right” came a voice behind them and Winter emerged from the grey, “She ain’t no danger to James Delaney.”

“Do you know each other?” asked Lorna and Winter nodded.

“She’s not one of us but she ain’t one of them neither.” Winter looked from Lorna to Nan.

“Who is she then?” Lorna asked, unable to stop herself.

“She’s the witch.” Winter said simply.

“Enough!” Nan said sharply, “Winter, go home or go somewhere else but leave us be for now.”

“He’s going to take me to America” Winter said and walked off.

“She thinks you’re a witch?” Lorna asked with a smile.

“I…have some medical knowledge…I suppose it could be seen as magic” Nan bluffed and relaxed when Lorna continued to smile.

“I saw you perform as Portia in Bath” Nan said after a beat of silence, “you were very good”

“Thank you” said Lorna and sat up a little straighter.

“You don’t sound like you come from here” Lorna assessed the woman sitting next to her, still dressed in last night’s clothes.

“No I come from further south but, like so many, I washed up here”

“So how did you end up being invited to the party?” asked Lorna

“I am tenuously acquainted with the Countess Musgrove” 

“An interesting creature” Lorna commented and Nan murmured her agreement.

“My life feels like it’s filled with interesting creatures at the moment” Nan said and Lorna laughed out loud.  
Leaving Lorna to her business and feeling sure the woman trusted her, Nan walked back to the streets. The day was in full swing and people were busy. She walked through them like a ghost. The more she walked, the more she felt a calling back to the river. Something was building, something was happening, something was coming.

Delaney stared at the roof as the chemist commented on the exceptional quality of the saltpetre. 

“Do you think she’s beautiful” he asked, still staring upwards.

“Who?” asked Cholmondeley, spitting out the crystal he tasted.

“The witch” Delaney replied.

“Who?” he asked again, confused.

“The actress” Delaney corrected.

He wasn’t shocked by the chemist’s admission that he would masturbate over Lorna Bow, nothing shocked him.

“So, can I call on her or not?” the chemist asked.

“No” Delaney stated.

“So, she is yours?” 

Delaney was bored with this so he returned to his purpose.

“Oi witch” came a voice behind her and she turned to see Atticus leaning against the door of a pub.

“Atticus. How is your book coming along?” she asked, walking over to him.

“My compendium of knowledge is filling nicely, thank you kindly” and he grinned, showing her his yellow teeth.

“I hear you’re mixed up with the Devil” she stated and his grin widened.

“What are you doing down my end of this fair city? I thought you lived out by Ollie’s Island. There’s not been an outbreak has there?” Atticus watched the street but kept glancing at the woman standing beside him. He’d had dealings with her before, she’d treated a fair few of his men in one way or another, even treated him a few times. He had an inkling about who and what she was but knew better than to say anything to her. He’d travelled all around the world and knew danger when it came up and tapped him on the shoulder. He’d thought about putting the likes of her in his book but decided against it; his book was going to contain believable facts about the world and magic wasn’t a part of that, not at all.  
“No. I’ve found myself without a roof since that bloody Delaney returned. Comfort is looking after the hut.” Nan sighed in frustration.

“You best come in to The Dolphin and have a drink then” he indicated for her to go inside.

“I’ve no coin” she said.

“You really are down on your heels ain’t you? Don’t worry old Atticus’ll see you right. I reckon we owe you at least a drink and something to eat”

“You can tell me about your adventures last night. Is it true you blew the door off its hinges?” she asked, going into the darkness, Atticus laughed and followed her.

She’d gone out to piss and when she returned Delaney was holding court with the men.

“…he will be of no use for he will have no thumb” and proceeded to hold down the hand of the fat man sitting at the table and cut off his thumb, ignoring, as the others did, his screams.

“I am inside your heads gentlemen” he said, staring round the room, not seeing, or at least, not acknowledging Nan.

This little piece of theatre impressed her; he had no way of knowing if the man was intending to sell them out for the ten pounds on offer but she was damn sure now that none of the others would.

She went to the door and watched him walk to Helga’s. The women were clearing up after the soldiers had come searching. She disappeared back into The Dolphin, were a few of the men were watching the fat man trying to bind up his crippled hand.

“Ain’t you going to help him?” Atticus asked with mild interest, Nan shook her head.

“Delaney was right, he was going to sell you out to the Company.” And smiled when she heard Atticus and the rest of them gasp and begin to mutter. She was also vaguely pleased that they were more willing to believe Delaney with her endorsement, they were in awe of her still.

Winter watched as the man thrust into Pearl. But when he held a knife to the girl’s throat and asked about Delaney, she knew what to do. She ran out to get Bill or one of the others but she came across Nan first.

“It’s Pearl” she shouted as Nan grabbed her arm to stop her slipping in the mud.

“Where?” Nan asked and ran in the direction the girl pointed.

She burst into the room to see the man holding a knife to Pearl’s throat and demanding to know about the powder. She took the curved knife from her belt and plunged it into his thigh. He screamed and fell back, his cock dangling from his open britches. Before he could do anything else, she sliced deep into the back of his thigh, cutting the muscles and then through the leather of the boots round his ankle, again carving the strings that allowed him to move. His screams shook the walls but she wasn’t finished. She kicked him over onto his back and leant over him, smiling. One swipe of the blade and his balls landed on the wood with a damp thud, looking like a peeled blood orange. Still he screamed but no one came to help.

Bill and another arrived and hauled the whimpering man to his feet where they put him out of his misery, not for kindness but for fear the noise would bring the soldiers. Nan stood over the body, covered in the still warm blood with the dripping knife in her hand. Bill looked at her and would swear to the others later, over rum and candlelight, that she smiled and licked the blood off her lips.

Atticus appeared and looked at the bloody scene.

“In all my days, I’ve never known a woman with the capacity for such brutality like you; you should’ve been born a man.” He said to Nan who looked into his eyes; he took a step back, not wanting to be too close to her.

“You’ve not known many women then Atticus” she murmured.

The men hauled the body out to the foreshore and then returned to The Dolphin. Atticus prodded it with a stick and saw Winter approach and pin something to the dead man’s clothes.

“Let it be known along the Wapping Wall that it was the work of the devil Delaney” he said and looked up at Winter who slowly walked away; she and the witch were beyond his understanding.

The wind was up that night and Nan couldn’t settle. She’d gone to Helga’s who’d offered her a room and anything else she might need after saving Pearl and their enterprise with the devil. She’d wiped most of the blood off but now the storm was calling. She walked into the river up to her waist and opened her eyes to what she needed to see.

Delaney sat on the branch and blew his powders into the gale. He could feel someone else with him but couldn’t see them yet. 

She moved out into the water and saw a figure in the mist. A white devil streaked with red, she looked down and saw her own hands streaked with white and blue. Closer and closer they moved towards each other until only a thin slice of water separated them. He reached out a hand towards her but an explosion broke the spell and they returned to their respective places in the world.

She waded out of the moonlit river and began to walk. No one on that dark night bothered her. They saw her and they felt her move by but even the drunkest and most belligerent avoided her. She came to the white pillars of St Bartholomew’s hospital and went through the archway.

A great pressure had built inside her; talking hadn’t eased it, watching hadn’t eased it, killing hadn’t eased it, tasting the blood hadn’t eased it, the river hadn’t eased it. Her entirety wanted to search out Delaney, bite into his flesh, allow him to taste her blood but even in this state she knew she would never be able to claw back her humanity if they found each other tonight. She doubted even he knew the full extent of what could happen if they mixed together; it would certainly be more explosive than anything the chemist could cook up. She’d worked too long and sacrificed too much to return to that state now. She knew from past experience there was only one other thing that could release her, if only for a time, so she searched out her only safe choice, the American doctor.

She thumped on his door and pushed through when it opened.

“Nan” his shock at seeing her, smelling of the river and clothes still stained with blood, was palpable.

“Don’t talk to anyone of what shall happen to you tonight” she breathed and peeled off her coat.

She looked even more like a Bernini statue as he watched her undo her clothes. She’d not said another word after that but had undone her hair so it fell like copper waterfall, she undid the hooks of her outer dress and the next layer until she was standing in her white underclothes, stained a faint red in places and filthy from the river. He didn’t care. He cared even less when she stood in front of him and shrugged off his waistcoat. She took his hand and placed it on her marble shoulder and drew it down between her breasts. He was breathing heavily and she smiled.

She knelt over him on the bed and her hair curtained them both. He could only watch as her lips travelled down his body and her nails dug into his sides; the tension was unbearable and he couldn’t wait any longer. He gripped her waist and rolled her onto her back which she allowed; he leant his head against her breasts and kissed them. He felt her put her hands on his shoulders and push him down until his mouth was between her thighs. 

Nan lay back. He wasn’t enough but he was sufficient for tonight at least. When she needed more she pulled him back up her body and circled her legs around his back, drawing him into her. He groaned loudly and began to move but it still wasn’t enough for Nan so she raised herself up until she was sitting in his lap and began to move faster. His hands dropped from her waist so he could support himself, leaning on the mattress. He stared into her face with a look of reverence as she worked him for her own pleasure. Never had he felt this; it was like dying. His moans grew louder and he couldn’t stop his eyes from closing though her wanted to look at her forever. She closed her eyes, feeling the end approaching; the American was saying her name over and over again but she didn’t hear. 

She was standing under a tree, the white devil in front of her and naked from the waist up, she put her hands on his chest and he howled, she placed her head in the curve of his neck and bit down, tasting the iron blood. She howled.

Returning to the room and the American, she saw him come with a force he’d never experienced. His shout echoed around the hospital, into street and over the river. He fell back, his heaving chest the only sign he wasn’t dead was.

“I saw the face of God” he murmured with his eyes still closed. She leant down so her hair pooled on his chest like red water.

“Not my God” she whispered.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fight, finally the truth and a threat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Solomon Coop is an interesting character, it's like watching a masterclass in chess every time he's in screen. I thought it was time to explain a bit about Nan and where she comes from. Please let me know what you think if you can.

Coop watched as the Prince Regent skimmed the many letters from George Chichester. He knew the Prince would ratify his idea to go after Stuart. After he’d explained Chichester’s complaint and gone through his plan several times to make sure the Prince understood, he smiled; now Strange and the Company would have to renegotiate the India problem. But he had a more delicate matter to broach with the fat idiot who was definitely fat but he questioned how far the idiocy went.

“Sire…I have some other news but it’s…private” and he nodded to the servants standing unobtrusively around the room.

The Prince grunted and waved them away; Coop waited until he was sure they were gone. He then walked over and checked no one was outside the room.

“Well?” the Prince demanded, taking a gulp from his glass.

“She’s resurfaced” Coop said and gained a moment of satisfaction when the shocked Prince spat port down his fine silk waistcoat. 

Delaney watched as the Doctor explained the reasons for the invented cholera outbreak. There was something different about him but James couldn’t quite see what it was.

“…that’s why we’ve also moved down here.” Dumbarton finished and stared at him.

What did he mean by ‘we’? It could be the Doctor and his assistants, a collective ‘we’ to mean the Committee of Secret Correspondents or someone else who worked with the Americans.

“Nan” a voice whispered in his head and he knew; he knew the doctor now considered Nan part of this. He could sense her on him. He was surprised at the shade of jealousy he felt. 

With the Doctor’s thinly veiled threats in ear, Delaney left the hospital. As he walked out of the gates he met Nan coming the other way.

“I saw you” he said, blocking her path, “I saw you in the river.”

“I saw you also.” She returned his stare and waited.

“Are you not concerned about contracting cholera? From your doctor? He treats them, doesn’t he?” said Delaney staring over her shoulder. She laughed.

“Both you and I know this outbreak is a fantasy constructed to blind prying eyes; clever but not dangerous.”

“Hhmmnn” Delaney grunted, “You’re working for the Americans now?” Nan raised her eyebrows.

“No, I do as requested; what does it matter to you?”

“Did the doctor request you last night?” he continued to look over her shoulder rather than at her.

“No, in fact it was the opposite, I requested him” 

He murmured again 

“And what are your new instructions?” She asked.

“Gunpowder” he replied, “in 8 days.”

“The French experiment?” she asked and he nodded.

“You heard the explosion” she stated, “was it a premonition?”

He shook his head, “A warning.”

“And will you heed it?” and then she closed her eyes, “of course you won’t.”

“Why do you know so much?” he asked after another pause.

“I’m a witch” she said and watched for his reaction.

“No” he said, moving his hand over her face, “there is more…more to your story.”

She remained impassive.

“It appears we are both being asked to entrust our lives to these American children; a precarious position.” She said.

He stepped across the gap between them “What will you do?”

“Wait and see” she said and walked away.

Nan had no wish to return to the American so headed back towards the docks. She didn’t feel safe or at home anywhere but Wapping docks were as good a place as any to disappear. She’d become far too visible these last few days. Delaney’s name was added to the list of curses that ran through her mind; first place was still, as always, reserved for her mother.

It was as she was crossing the bridge that she realised she was being followed. Two or perhaps three, well trained. She didn’t speed up or slow down, making sure they didn’t realise she knew. At the end of the bridge a small crowd had gathered to watch a fight between the owner of a fish stall and a large woman brandishing an eel. She pushed her way through them and slipped between a fruit barrow and a barber surgeon offering painless tooth extraction. 

She waited around the corner of some stables. Within a matter of seconds, she heard quick footsteps slipping in the mud. She took the knife from her belt and remained still until two of them ran around the side of the building. Shoving the largest man as hard as she could, she sliced him as he fell. The other one was much closer than she first thought and she had to swing upwards, cutting his arm rather than his torso. He fell back and she used this opportunity to stab into his face; he landed on his back, screaming and trying to hold his cheek together. She turned back to the man on the floor but missed the third man who came from the other side of the building. The last thing she remembered before it all went black was a hand brandishing a leather cosh.

Winter saw Nan slice the two men. She tried to call out a warning about the third bastard who was slyer than the other two but Nan couldn’t hear her. She watched Nan fall and then the two men, who could still move, drag her to a posh looking carriage that was waiting by the arch. The other was still trying to hold his face closed. It all happened so quick the crowd, still watching the fish seller cower as the large woman threatened him, saw nothing. 

Winter ran to tell Helga.

Nan was drowning. The water closed over her head and she sank through the blue. She couldn’t stop herself, she couldn’t swim to the surface. She let herself be taken. As it got darker, she saw the white face of The Crow reaching up for her, black hair and feathers swirling in the silver black. 

A sharp ammonia smell dragged her back.

“Ah you’ve returned to us, my Lady” 

She raised her aching head to see the smiling face of Solomon Coop, Private Secretary to the Prince Regent amongst other things. He tucked the vial of smelling salts back into his pocket.

She looked around; she was seated on a chair in the centre of a richly furnished room with golden fabric on the walls, paintings hung on the walls and the carved tables were laden with fresh flowers, food and decanters of wine.

“I apologise for the manner in which you were brought here but you’ve proved rather difficult to find these past few years.” Coop’s manner was light and pleasant, as though they were meeting at a garden party.

“I’m not restrained” she was surprised, she’d have thought this man was cleverer than that. Coop looked shocked.

“Absolutely not. The Lady Trepeller would never be restrained when under the Crown’s protection, perish the thought.”

Nan sighed, she knew she’d have been found eventually but she’d hoped it would’ve been a little longer.

“Well The Lady Trepeller wishes to leave. Now” she said.

“Unfortunately, that won’t be possible.” Coop said and poured himself a glass of sherry.

“My spies tell me you’ve been seen with James Delaney.” He said after taking a sip.

“Yes, he came to see me regarding the whereabouts of a man I treated for the pox. A ship’s captain in the King’s navy. I told him I didn’t know where the captain was so Delaney left.” Nan said.

“And why did he want this ship’s captain?” Coop asked.

“I have no idea. Perhaps Delaney wanted to eat his heart; I’ve heard rumours he likes to do that.” Nan answered impassively. Coop laughed.

“Your sister is still imprisoned by the Americans” he said suddenly.

“Yes, she was accused of spying for you” Nan snapped back.

“Surely she was spying for us? We are all member of the British Empire, are we not” Coop said. Nan remained silent.

“Tell me about Delaney and I will encourage The Prince to demand your sister’s release.”

“I don’t know any more about Delaney than what I have told you” she said.

Coop placed his glass on the table and wiped his mouth with a handkerchief. Walking behind Nan, he suddenly gripped her shoulder and leant down to her ear.

“The rumours about you are almost as shocking as those about Delaney and they were spoken of long before he came back. If it weren’t for your mother’s…relationship with the Prince and the questions surrounding your birth I believe you should’ve been burnt at the stake like the witches of old” and he clenched his hand. Nan remained still. He released his hand and stood in front of her, looking down.

“Is it true more women in your family have been accused of witchcraft than in the rest of history combined?” his tone was jovial but his eyes were dangerous. Nan was still silent. 

“I also heard that you commune with the Devil. They call Delaney the Devil, have you communed with him?” Nan sighed but still said nothing; her grandmother and then her mother had trained her from a young age to expect and then withstand this and much, much worse.

“Come now my Lady, we are all friends here. Tell me what you know of Delaney’s plans and you will be released”

“I thought I wasn’t restrained” Nan met his stare and Coop had to force himself not to step back.

“Don’t think that the Crown’s protection is infinite. It, like my patience, will run out eventually.”

Nan’s fingers flickered. She was loathed to admit she had anything in common with her sister other than the same mother but she had a reckless streak that could rival the best of them. She’d had enough of the game Coop thought he was playing with her.

“And who will protect you?” she asked and Coop looked confused.

“Why should I need protection?” he asked, genuinely nonplussed.

“As you rightly said, I come from a long line of witches that even James the First couldn’t wipe out though he tried. You are alone with me, here, without protection” this time Coop did take a step back.

“God will protect me” he said.

“You think God is in this room? Oh, Mr Coop, even Lucifer would hesitate to cross the threshold.” Coop’s fingers automatically went to the emblem of the golden fleece dangling from the ribbon around his neck. Nan laughed.

“Your dead sheep won’t protect you either.”

Coop tried to claw back some authority.

“You will be charged with the murder of an agent of the Prince Regent. You will be taken to the Tower, tortured and then hanged.”

“No” she said, “I won’t.”

“And why is that?” Coop asked, his façade cracking again.

‘Because I would call up such a host of demons the walls of the Tower would crack and crumble to dust. I would shake London to the ground. I would rouse the Earth itself to spew fire and burn England to ash”

Coop turned white and his eyes nearly burst out of his skull. 

“You godless whore” he hissed. Nan rose from her chair and leaned in to him before he had time to move.

“You stink of fear; it’s coming off you like steam.” She whispered and blew sharply into his face.

“Guards! Guards!” Coop screamed and the soldiers burst into the room.

“Take her! Take her to the Tower.” The soldiers grabbed Nan who was laughing.

“Gag and blindfold her” Coop ordered as they dragged the laughing witch away. He gulped down the sherry and poured himself another with shaking hands.

“Who took her?” demanded Atticus standing opposite the seated Winter.

“Men. From the Crown I reckon. They weren’t Company I know that” Winter said looking from Atticus to her mother and then back again.

“What would the Crown want with Nan?” Helga asked.

“We don’t know where she comes from.” Atticus said, neither of them wanted to say what they were thinking. French Bill burst into the room.

“She’s been taken to the Tower.” He said and Helga thumped the table in frustration.

“She’s as good as dead” she said.

“I reckon we should tell James” said Atticus and Helga nodded.

“I’ll tell him” Winter said quickly, Helga paused then nodded again. Winter ran off into the night.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A terror is revealed and another is committed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...well...what a finale. I won't make any more comments just in case you've not watched it. All I'm saying is there'd better be another series in the offing soon or I'm going to go full Delaney on the BBC. As always, thank you for reading and please let me know what you think if you can.

Coop approached the Prince’s rooms knowing exactly how to explain what had happened. He opened the door and bowed.

“Sire I…”

“Release her” said the Prince, not looking up from his plate.

“My Lord I’m not sure…” Coop began

“Well I fucking am. Release her.” The Prince interrupted.

“She’s a danger to the Crown…to England…to…to God” Coop exclaimed in disbelief.

The Prince stood up quicker than Coop believed the bloated whale had moved in a long time and thrust his choleric face into his Secretary’s ashen one.

“Release her now or you will live out the rest of your miserable fucking life in me Tower with only your precious wife for company. D’you hear me Coop?”

The secretary nodded and hurried out. The Prince sat down heavily and selected a small cake.

Nan sat on the floor of the filthy room with her back to the walls and watched as the rat investigated her hand, sniffing and twitching its whiskers. A crow cawed outside the bars of the only window, set high in the walls. 

The soldiers had thrown her into the cell and got out as quick as they could. It’d taken her about 5 minutes to work off the blindfold and gag and then 10 more minutes to unlock the shackles with the last of her hair pins. 

She was cold and hungry but unharmed. She was also bored. The rat ran up her arm and began nosing through her hair. 

It was another hour before the door was unlocked and a nervous soldier told her she was free to go. She stood up, placed the rat on the floor and brushed the straw off her skirt. She was lead through the stone passages, emerging into the evening shadow. The gate was opened and she stepped out.

“What’s the plan then James?” Atticus asked.

“We wait” he said, running his fingers through the candle flame. Atticus looked at Helga who just shrugged.

Nan wasn’t followed as she walked back to Wapping. All the way through the darkening streets, she cursed her mother, her sister, The Prince, Delaney, the Americans and anyone else who crossed her mind.

She saw the lights of Helga’s across the bridge and made her way towards them. It was where she’d been heading earlier in the day but now she arrived without incident.

Kicking the door open, Nan didn’t notice anyone or anything other than the fire. She held her freezing hands as near as she could to the flames; they were filthy. 

“Helga” she called over her shoulder, “Can I have something to eat and drink please, it’s been a trying day…Helga?” She turned to see Helga, Atticus, Bill, Winter and a host of others standing behind Delaney who was sat at the table, staring at her.

“What’s going on?” she asked, bemused.

“How the fuck did you get out of the Tower?” Atticus gaped.

“I demanded to be released” she said simply, “Now please can I have a drink and something to eat?”

After she had got warm again and drank the brandy Helga put in front her, she sat in the chair and kicked off her boots. A bowl of stew was pushed into her hands and she gratefully began to spoon it into her mouth. The others were giving her a wide berth and she was thankful. She looked up as James sat opposite her.

“They asked me about you and your plans, I told them nothing” she said around a mouthful of food. Delaney nodded.

“You believe me?” she asked and he nodded again, staring into the fire.

“The others think you used magic to get out of the Tower” he said and Nan laughed.

“It was a magic of sorts, just not the kind they know about.” Nan said, setting the empty bowl by her feet. James poured more brandy into her cup.

“A magic that can command the Crown” he murmured. Nan sighed and drank the brandy.

“Apparently, blood is more powerful than an accusation of murder” she said and James grunted but didn’t reply.

“You need to sleep” he said finally.

“You’re probably right” Nan said, yawned hugely and stood up.

“I would have come for you” James said without looking at her.

“But you didn’t need to…you’ll never need to.” and she walked away.

Delaney eventually returned to Chamber House and went up to the attic, not waking the house or its occupants. He stared out of the round glass window but didn’t see the London skyline or the dark river. 

Instead, he saw The Crow, waist high in the water with her back to him. Her hands were in the water and the wind ruffled her feathers. She turned to face him but Brace broke the spell.

It had been a long time since James had felt the chill, but its fingers crept up his spine as Brace finally spewed his secrets.

“Always cow-eyed about your sainted mother...You know nothing…” the old man had said and he’d been right. 

She’d tried to drown him. She held him under the water until his lungs had filled with water. Did he believe Brace? Could he believe Brace?

“She wanted you dead James.”

Nan lay asleep in the bed only recently vacated by Helga’s girls and dreamed.

She was in a cell but not the one that she’d so recently occupied. It was too hot, too close; strange insects crawled up the walls.

Her sister came from the shadows and stood in front of her. Nan saw she hadn’t really changed since they’d parted in Lisbon after burying their mother. She still had the arrogant, devil may care look about her. Her golden hair was filthy and her clothes were in tatters but other than that she was still the same.

“Elizabeth” Nan said and opened her arms but her sister remained still.

“You didn’t follow me” her sister said, “I thought you’d follow me but you didn’t”

Nan watched as her sister’s face slowly changed from full cheeked beauty to sunken hollows.

“I couldn’t…I didn’t want to. We had different paths” Nan said, her desperation clear. The arrogance was gone from Elizabeth; the bones of her chest stuck out through her skin.

“They kept me in a cell. I called out to you night after night but you never replied. Where were you?” Elizabeth gripped Nan’s arm with the skeletal claws, the fingernails had been ripped out, only bloody beds remained.

“I didn’t hear you” Nan tried to pull free but Elizabeth’s grip was like needled iron.

“You have so much power, much more than mother, but you didn’t hear me, your own sister?” Tears rolled down Elizabeth’s face, creating tracks through the grime and getting caught in the cracks and sores on her pale lips; her hair, no longer golden, hung in straggled rat tails down her back.

“I’m sorry…I’m sorry” Nan felt the hopeless realisation begin to dawn.

“They killed me. I died with your name on my lips” Elizabeth’s mouth drew back over her remaining teeth and Nan struggled to pull free.

“You never came to me. You never came” Elizabeth howled, pulling Nan towards the shadows.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry” Nan cried but Elizabeth, now a wizened and grey creature, dragged her closer to the darkness.

The Crow threw back her head and shrieked.

Nan woke up screaming.

 

She pushed through the dyed fabrics and found Dumbarton, elbow deep in a vat of yellow.

“Nan” he said, smiling.

“When did she die?” she asked in a low and steady voice. The doctor froze for a moment and then moved to his desk and began to wipe away the dye.

“I have no…” he began.

“When did she die?” Nan asked again, still in the same tone. He looked up and met her eye; he was chilled to his very core.

“8 months ago. It was the beginning of summer; a fever ravaged the gaol and took your sister” he said. Nan continued to stare at him.

“It was quick, she didn’t suffer” he lied.

“You kept her in a filthy cell, you pulled out her fingernails with pliers, you starved her until she was a skeleton and when she still didn’t tell you what you wanted to know, you let her die…frightened and alone, calling for me” she took a step forward.

“I wasn't there. How…how do you know this?” the doctor stuttered.

“She told me. She came to me and she told me” Nan breathed, tilting her head this way and that as the doctor began to shake.

“She suffered…as shall you” she hissed, “a-barth an Jowl a gyj…you’ll suffer.”

After she left, Dumbarton staggered over to his supply of laudanum and drank.

Nan looked up at the blood red sky and waded out into the river. Opening her arms, she invited in all she had worked so long to keep at bay. She felt it wrap around her like a lover and twist its way through her flesh and bones; faces moved in and out, her mother, her sister, the Prince, the Crow, the river itself. A tall, dark figure reached out and she fell into it, willingly and with relief.

Winter watched from the shore line until she couldn’t stand the fear any longer; she ran back to her mother and the safety of the hearth.

Delaney made good on his promise to deliver the American’s powder. After the exchange had been made, he made his way back to the house. The dark streets were shrouded in river mist and he saw no one.

They were on him before he could react. Four of them, all with knives thirsty for his blood. He slashed one across the ribs but another grabbed him by the neck. He saw the glint of a knife moving with lethal speed towards his exposed throat but the cut was never made. The man gripping him gave a huge scream and fell back clutching the hole were his eye should have been. James span round to see Nan reach round and plunge the knife into the man’s chest again and again until her hands were gloved with blood. She tossed the body aside just as the other three attacked again. One lashed out at Delaney who side stepped him and stabbed his curved blade into the man’s liver. He looked up to see Nan open the other man’s belly and watch as his innards slithered over her boots. He rammed his elbow into the last man’s ribs and twisted to slit his throat; the blood fountained over both of them.

James watched as Nan leaned in, closely, to inspect the intestines, kidneys and stomach that spilled from the body. The ends of her long hair swayed in the blood. She forced her splayed hand into the exposed and still warm heart, stood up and pressed it onto James’ chest. She did the same to her own.

“Free” she said.

“Free” he repeated.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nan joins in, fire travels over water and there's a change

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this chapter, it took me a while to get going after the stellar final episode and then the bereft feeling knowing it was over but the good news is there WILL be another series (according to the Belfast Telegraph)...can't come soon enough. Please let me know what you think if you can.

Delaney didn’t look back as he and Nan went their separate ways; their business was done for now but he had no doubt their paths would cross again. They were somehow tied together and she had a part to play in his intricate plan. He’d realised she could be a useful addition to his company but she was not yet ready to join him. He could wait.

He returned to his attic and watched the current flow from the round window. 

A loud knocking roused him from his reverie. He shouted for Brace but received no reply so he stomped down the stairs only to see his sister standing in the rain, outside his door. She burst through, kicked off her shoes and went to the fire.

When she told how she’d killed her husband, Delaney felt a few threads of his plan begin to unravel but he was also felt his blood rise at this news. He ordered her to return home after he could arrange for the body to be taken away so as not arouse unnecessary interest. He didn’t think of the Crown, the Company, The Americans, powder, Nan or Lorna or anyone else. He dealt with the problem and then drank until he couldn’t drink anymore and left.

Nan had gone back to Helga’s; she didn’t have anywhere else to go. 

Her sister was dead. Her sister had been dead for 8 months. Her mother was dead and now her sister was dead. There was no one left. She was alone.

She was free.

Ignoring Helga’s orders to get out of sight and that she was scaring away her customers, coming in covered in blood as she was, Nan grabbed the nearest bottle and sat by the fire to drink and think and think and drink.

She was free.

Remember.

Nan upended the bottle and drained the last drops. Pearl watched as the witch stood up, steady and strong, and grabbed another bottle. She sat down and went back to staring at the fire.

The Crow turned in the river to face her with outstretched arms. There was no screaming, there was no madness, just a desperate plea to Nan.

Winter saw Nan stand and close her eyes, murmuring words the girl had only heard once from the mouth of Delaney then spat brandy into the fire as an offering. She turned and caught Winter’s eye; she smiled like a devil and left.

Godfrey, clerk of the Company and a molly and Delaney’s man on the inside, replaced his pen with a shaking hand. This was the end; the farmer Ibbotson had revealed the location of Delaney’s factory to a priest who’d then been paid handsomely by the Company. He waited for the ending of the meeting with sweat dripping down his back. He walked out of the front door, around the corner and then ran hell for leather to Chamber House.

He met James just as he was returning and shouted of the betrayal.

“I will sort it in my way” Delaney had said as Godfrey clung to his neck.  
He saddled his horse ready to ride to his factory. 

“You smell like brandy” he said without turning around.

“Show me where you make the gunpowder” she said.

His horse ran just as well with two and the road was clear. Neither of them spoke as they travelled through the lowlands. Delaney could feel her warmth through his clothes as she clung on.

They stopped on the edge of a large pond; the wind rustled the trees, making them creak and groan.

“I have been betrayed by a man who thought he was talking only to God” James said, patting the horse and throwing the reins over a low branch.

“Any man who talks to God will betray in the end” Nan said and he grunted in agreement.

“You intend to silence him?” she asked.

“Yes, I do…and send a message to anyone else who might want to talk to God. Will you come with me?” he asked and she shook her head.

“He didn’t betray me. I’ll wait here and listen to the water.” He nodded and disappeared into the trees.

She sat on the trunk of a fallen tree and watched and waited.

Delaney returned much sooner than she’d expected. Nan could smell the blood on him. He untied the horse and they rode past the pond towards a farm with a water wheel.

"Why do you want to see my factory?” he asked.

“I want to gauge the likelihood of your success; this seems the best way to do that” she replied. He didn’t respond.

As they approached the farm, Bill came around the corner.

“He won’t let us move the powder” Bill said and Delaney growled.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out something dripping with blood. The chemist was slumped against the side of the building refusing to move. It was only after Delaney pushed the traitor’s tongue into his hand did he stir. 

Nan moved the barrels very carefully onto the boats along with the other men. A young boy was part of the crew and she gleaned that he was the ward of the farmer whom Delaney had just killed by cutting out his tongue; he didn’t seem particularly traumatised but Nan had known many children who had witnessed terrible things and then buried them too deep to dig out.

She stepped into the second boat with two of the other men and sat next to the barrels, one hand resting gently on one like it was friend. They made their slow and gentle process as the soldiers pounded along the road, kicking up sparks and dust all for nothing.

As the boats entered the dark tunnel, the water cast snake shadows over the travellers and the barrels. Nan was sure she saw The Crow laughing in the current. 

Nan marvelled at how tender and gentle the men could be with the barrels of fiery death; much softer than she suspected they were with their wives and children. Rolling them into the asylum, Nan’s skirt got caught underneath a barrel and she fell.

“Fucking hell, be careful you stupid bitch” the chemist hissed in a low voice.

“Fuck off yourself” she whispered back and struggled to get back on her feet, the young boy held out his hand and she took it gratefully. 

After securing the barrels in Bedlam, the band went their separate ways. Nan leapt on the back of the cart with the others and headed back to Wapping Wall. Delaney rode off in the other direction without looking back. Nan didn’t notice, she had a plan and now she had a way to make it happen.

James swung the pick into the grave dirt, hacking out a space for Zilpha’s dead husband. He paused to take a drink from the brandy bottle and shovelled soil onto the pile. The grave wasn’t neat and it wasn’t deep.

He watched Zilpha as the priest said words over the coffin and didn’t notice the rain begin.

Nan opened the chest Helga had hauled in from the cupboard.

“What are you looking for?” Helga asked as Nan began raking through the contents.

“Suitable clothing” she said, shaking out a black great coat.

“For what?” Helga asked waving the dust away

“Men’s work” Nan answered and grinned.

Finally, James had Zilpha; alone and to himself. He was losing himself with her and in her.

The Crow screamed.

He jolted back.

The Crow kissed him.

He gripped Zilpha’s throat.

The Crow held the baby underneath the water.

Zilpha scratched and pushed him away. He lurched away and saw what he’d nearly done.  
The Crow smiled.

“How do I look?” asked Nan as Helga stood back to get the full view.

“You look ridiculous” Helga replied.

“Why?”

“You look like a man” Helga said, her lip curling in disgust.

“That’s the idea…oh don’t look like that.” Nan laughed, “I nearly blew myself up because of my skirts. This is much more practical” and she brushed moth wings off the black breeches and tucked the shirt further into the drawstring waistband and adjusted the maroon waistcoat.

“Children will throw stones at you” Helga said.

“I think she looks dangerous” came a voice from the doorway and they turned to see Winter hugging the frame.

“Out!” snapped Helga, “Go and do something useful” and the girl slunk away.

“You’re working with Delaney now?” Helga poured some brandy and drank it in one go.  
“I wouldn’t say working, I’m not taking any payment from him. He’s…useful” Nan moved to get used to the trousers. Her mother had worn trousers everyday on the trip to Lisbon but Nan had eschewed them; it was too hot and skirts allowed the air to circulate.

“Useful? How” Helga asked but Nan stared at her until the woman turned away.

Nan strode out of Helga’s, the black great coat swirling like a whirlpool around her. Children didn’t throw stones at her, men didn’t shout obscenities at her and women moved to one side; she was no longer interested in being invisible.

She caught sight of an East India coach rumbling through the archway and then a group of children following an entertainer singing about Bonaparte. She watched them prance about, lost in her thoughts.

These thoughts were broken by an explosion at the dockside. She felt the blast under her feet and in her skull. The sound of the broken mast falling was like the breaking bones of a giant. 

So, the East India had finally declared all-out war on Delaney had they? It was about time they flexed their muscles, she was surprised it had taken them so long. If it was a war they wanted, it was a war they’d get.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The river, a death, a progression and an agreement is reached

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's taken me a while to get this chapter completed with work and home commitments. Thank you for continuing to read this even after such a long time. Please let me know what you think if you can.

Nan watched as the ship burned to a charred skeleton. She realised this would put a significant crimp in Delaney’s plans and, in turn, her own. Delaney left, not waiting to see his ship eat itself in flame; she’d had no desire to follow him. Instead Nan went to The Dolphin to watch men’s faces. 

As the sky grew dark, she’d come to a conclusion about who might have spewed to the East India, now she waited for the inevitable.

When he arrived, Delaney seemed to bring the night with him. Nan had folded herself into the shadowed corner and saw him head over to Atticus sitting by the fire pit. Even though the fire was burning brightly, it seemed to Nan that the flames dimmed as Delaney warmed his boots. She was certain he too knew who had talked and she waited to see what revenge he would wreak but there was also a shade of desperation around James and this unsettled her. Nan was absolutely sure he would be useful in the execution of her plan and had welcomed the idea that he was as unshakeable as herself, however, it appeared, the path out of this particular wood was unclear to both of them. He also had to plug this leak and prevent any others…there was only one way to do that and she was sure Delaney would have no problem with it.

Before midnight she was proved right. Nan watched the execution of the traitor from a short distance and realised the brutality would serve a fine warning to anyone else with loose lips. She was surprised to witness the normally immovable Atticus visibly disturbed by the night’s work. Delaney was truly a master of men.

Pushing herself off the wall, she went off in search of a distraction. This came in the form of a beautiful sailor fresh from Italy; soulful eyes, skilled hands and absolutely no English, who didn’t care about her family, her history or her clothes. In the morning, Nan returned to find Winter had been murdered and Delaney was to blame.

She’d managed to get as much of the story as was known from Pearl, Helga was inconsolable and wouldn’t leave her dead daughter’s side. In the end, Nan had given her a brandy laced with laudanum to make her sleep and they could lay Winter out and contact the priest. Atticus visited to pay his respects but his fears about Helga were clearly etched on his face. He felt Nan’s eyes on him and avoided her gaze.

She attended the funeral and saw Delaney sitting on the shoreline, far enough away not to be noticed by Helga or perhaps she was too distraught to care. Nan waited until the boat carrying Winter to the sea was a dot on the shimmering ribbon of the river and walked away.

 

For once, Nan was at a loss as to what to do. Christ, what she really wanted was to just go home, back to Trepellar and the cliffs and the harbour and the soft light but knew that was impossible. One day but not today. 

She was leaning on the bridge, watching the water, when she saw Winter flicker in the corner of her eye.

“Did he kill you?” she asked and Winter shook her head.

“Does he know?” again the shade’s head shook.

“Who did?” but the shade was gone, to where she couldn’t see.

Nan sighed and made a decision. If she was going to get what she wanted it now was the time to throw her lot entirely in with Delaney.   
Walking up the steps to the door of his house, Nan felt a whisper of apprehension; so much rested on Delaney doing what she needed him to do, what if he denied her? A crow cawed from the roof and then flew away towards the heath, she took this as a sign.

An old man opened the door and the look on his face almost made Nan take a step back.

“We don’t want anything” he snapped before she’d even opened her mouth. Then the weight of her aristocratic ancestry and years of training at the hands of her formidable mother and grandmother surfaced.

“I am here to see Mr Delaney, please inform him Lady Trepellar is here” and she swept past the startled servant and waited for him to take her coat. He didn’t seem to notice her trousers or waistcoat such was her authority.

He ushered her into the sitting room and she took the seat nearest the fire, he bustled off to get Delaney and she took the opportunity to warm her bones. The house was filled with the past, it settled like dust all around her; she felt the Crow weave through the walls, floors, furniture, even the air tasted of her anger. However, there were others, a man riven with madness and desperate to escape his own flesh, a liar frantic to tell the truth, ghosts and shadows in every corner and threading all the way through was Delaney.

She didn’t turn when he entered the room even though his presence was like a lead weight on a scale. 

“Lady Trepellar” and he bowed low, mocking her, “Why are you here?” he asked.

“I will be of use to you” she replied.

“How?” 

“You have no ship and you’re running out of time, you’re at war with the Company and the Crown…I have experience of both and influence with one. Helga will betray you to one or the other and that will mean the Tower, I’ve already survived my visit, perhaps I could help you survive yours. When you do go to war, you’ll need a doctor and I’m offering my services. The Crow wants us both…you can’t deny her and I don’t want to anymore…so here I am”

He grunted and stared at her.

“Why should I trust you?” he asked.

“You don’t have to trust me, you just have to realise my usefulness.”

“What makes you think you can trust me?” he asked and was surprised when she laughed her curiously loud and infectious laugh.

“I don’t. Jesus Christ, could you imagine what would happen if people like you and I went around trusting each other? We’d be dead before the clock struck 6. No Mr Delaney, I don’t trust you but there are people I trust even less…so here I am” she said again.

He stared at her and they both felt The Crow call from the river; he appeared to come to a decision.

“Brace!” he yelled and the old man came in looking unnerved, “The Lady Trepellar will be staying with us, please ready a bedroom… one with the least water damage.”

“Sir…” Brace began but Delaney had already pushed past him and was climbing the stairs to the attic.

“Where’s milady’s bags” asked Brace.

“I don’t have any…and it’s Nan, not milady please”

Brace nodded, mute with surprise.

The day softly turned to night as Nan sat in the window and watched the river. She hadn’t seen Delaney or anyone else since she’d closed the bedroom on Brace. Her mind had crept through the house, searching in all the rooms, corners and shadows, learning what she could. Most of it was fragmented horror and fear, she was sure she saw Winter slip through the attic door but left Delaney with the child.

A loud knocking pulled her out of the doze she’d fallen into. The house echoed with Delaney roaring for Brace and the creaking of the stairs as he went down to open the door. She heard muffled voices and the clink of a glass but no shouting. After a battle with her curiosity she had no hope of winning, Nan walked quietly down the stairs and leant against the wall by the open door. She’d always had an uncanny knack for becoming almost invisible and now used this to listen to the two men.

The nature of justice was being discussed. Justice. Nan smiled derisively, there was only one kind of justice she believed in and it certainly didn’t come in the form of a Royal Commission.  
“I'm investigating the sinking of a sloop called the Cornwallis, renamed the Influence, off the coast of Cabinda in July Eighteen 1804. As far as I can ascertain, you are the only surviving member of the crew of the Cornwallis. I want you to write an account naming Sir Stuart Strange as the man who organized the loading of the Cornwallis with slaves. Bound for a sugar plantation in Jumby Bay Antigua. Owned by his own brother.” Mr Chichester explained in a very calm and precise manner. Delaney met his stare and for the first-time Chichester, a former slave, educated, clever and hungry for justice, felt unsure.   
“Hmm.. 'Aye aye Captain', I said…” James began and, outside the door, Nan closed her eyes; so, this was what she tasted on him during their first meeting…the repulsion she had felt and that hidden desire for something that wasn’t quite redemption and wasn’t quite revenge he needed. She pushed herself off the wall and returned to her room, she didn’t need to hear anymore, she knew enough.

Delaney watched as the boy, Robert, reached for the key in his hand. He moved it just out of reach, teasing the boy in his new job as servant. James had no desire to indulge any thoughts about the boy who was his blood but he had been useful and earned his place in the plans.

“For the safe” he growled and registered the boy’s shock.

“Now…send the witch to see me” and sat back in his chair. 

Nan was tucking her shirt into the waistband of her trousers when someone knocked on her door. The boy peered round the door, nervous but not petrified.

“Mr Delaney wishes you to speak with him…he’s in the attic” he said and Nan narrowed her eyes.

“Mr Delaney can wait until I’ve had tea and toast” she said and the boy grinned.

After she’d eaten and smoked a bowl of tobacco, Nan climbed the stairs and pushed open the door. Delaney was sitting in the chair surrounded by papers and sealed envelopes.

“I sent the boy to get you half an hour ago” he murmured, staring at the papers.

“And I wanted tea and toast, I came when I was ready” she answered, sitting down without waiting for his invitation. James grunted but didn’t comment further.

“You heard Mr Chichester last night?” he asked and Nan nodded.

“You know my past” he continued.

“We all have secrets; yours are no more shocking than others who have played with the Crown or Company” Nan answered, nonchalantly crossing her legs.

“What of your secrets?” he asked, staring at her with glittering eyes.

“My secrets are my own” she stated, “But yours have already proven problematic…redemption is a costly prize for a man attempting to fuck both sides of the Atlantic” Delaney snorted, it could have been a laugh or it could have been anger, Nan didn’t care.

“I will go to see Helga today” James stated.  
“She is going to try and kill you” Nan said, “I think you already know this but you’ll go anyway…there is no fear of death in you”

“I’m already dead” he said

“No” Nan gave him an appraising stare, “No you don’t really believe that…you have much more to do before you join the choir of the dead…some will go before you however, are you prepared for that?”

“Yes” he answered simply.

They sat in silence as they’d done in their first meeting.

“And what of your death?” he asked quietly.

“My death is no one’s concern but my own.”

“There’s no one who’ll mourn you?” he asked.

“There’s nobody left” she replied without regret.

“Alone” Delaney stated, and she laughed.

“No” she sighed, “Never alone. Never that."

“What is it you want?” James asked, finally giving in to his curiosity about this woman.

“To go home” she said softly.

He grunted and nodded.

Nan stood up and wandered over to the circular window, she felt James join her and they both watched the river.

“What is it you really want?” he whispered.

“To burn them all to ash and watch them scatter to the four winds” she replied.

The Crow was standing up to her waist in the water, she threw her head back and opened her mouth as if to scream but there was no sound just the rush of water and creaking of the trees. Nan found herself standing on the bank directly in line with The Crow, looking down at her hands, she saw they were painted white again but this time the streaks were red and black. Raising her head, she saw a man, painted white, standing directly opposite on the other bank. He stepped into the water and waded towards The Crow, Nan did the same. The Crow held out both her hands waiting for them to reach her but Nan felt her feet go from under her and fell into the icy and fast flowing river. She tried to reach the painted man…she tried to reach James but was swept towards the gaping maw of the ocean.   
Nan fell to the floor, holding her head and feeling her muscles seize and jerk but she also felt Delaney kneel beside her; his heat crackled over her flesh, he smelt of the river and gunpowder and wood smoke. She opened her eyes to see him leaning over her, unalarmed. She raised her head until her lips were almost touching his.

“Let’s set fire to the ocean together” she murmured and he felt her voice vibrate across his skin.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've revisited this series recently and became inspired all over again. It took a long time to pick this up again but please let me know what you think if you can.

Zilpha sat opposite him in their father’s offices, the bruises and cuts giving her face an asymmetrical look. She was almost a stranger to him, her words meaningless. Perhaps they had once been the same person but not now…her rashness had created a rut in his plans and she’d shut him out with her prayers…no, she was a stranger now. Her cries and protestation didn’t quite fall on deaf ears but he simply blocked them like all other pain. He then went to Bedlam and the powder. 

Echoes of Salish murmured through the room as Atticus was talking, James had to fight to keep her at bay. The tapping of the rain through the holes in the roof provided a rhythmic beat to the whispers. He needed to see properly. Once he had finished he rode his horse onto the heath and lit a fire.

Breathing in the smoke and repeating the words that would allow him to see, James pushed aside the shroud and fell into the vision; the Crow, dressed in pelts, standing in water, her face painted white and black, staring with…what? Defiance? Aggression? Hate? His father turning in a net of tree roots. The painted man, white and black, in the water up to his waist. Nan, shrouded in black cloth, hands painted white and red, at the water’s edge, lifting up her arms to command all that was around her, not of the same power as the Crow but equal nonetheless. 

His name echoed faintly and the Crow screamed, his father screamed, Nan smiled her secret smile and the vision was gone. Godfrey was at his side shouting of Helga’s betrayal to the East India.

“I have a use for you…”

Whilst James and Godfrey met with Chichester at the molly house, Nan went about her own business. She knew the forthcoming journey would be long and she had little doubt that Delaney’s plan would come to fruition…but little doubt wasn’t the same as no doubt and she needed some insurance.

Approaching Windsor Castle, Nan wrapped her cloak tightly against the wind. She had forsaken her trousers and great coat for the dress she had worn to Countess Musgrove’s party. Slipping silently through the corridors, unseen by the servants and guards, she made her way to the room where she had been only once before, many years ago, with her mother and sister. She heard the cries before she got to the door, a soul in torment and madness, more so even than James’ father.

Knocking on the door, Nan’s heart thumped in her chest. The door opened to reveal Queen Charlotte in her nightgown, Nan bowed low and waited for the Queen to speak.

“Get up child,” the Queen said softly, still with a German accent, and Nan entered the bedroom.

“He’s been expecting you for three days,” the Queen said as Nan took off her cloak, “he knew you were coming.”

She approached the chair placed near the fire to keep its occupant warm. She again bowed low as George, King of Great Britain and Ireland and King of Hanover, almost blind, almost deaf, crippled with rheumatism and madness, placed his hand on her cheek.  
“Amelia?” he whispered hopefully.

“No, your Majesty, Amelia died 4 years ago, I'm Mernans Trepellar,” Nan said gently.

“Of course she did,” he whispered again and tears fell from his cloudy eyes as if only just learning of his favourite daughter’s death.

“Can you ease him?” the Queen asked, “like you did before?”

Nan sighed, “perhaps I can give him a day, maybe two, he has deteriorated so much.” She brushed away the King’s long, grey hair and placed her hand on his forehead.

A dropped ball of string. A maze. Tangled fishing nets. Madness. But here and there were flashes of sanity, winnowing through like a candle. She pulled, reeling them in like a fish on a hook.

“Lady Trepellar,” his voice was weak but coherent and he reached for his wife’s hand, holding it tightly.

“Your Majesty,” she said and smiled.

“What drew you to the bedside of a mad old man?” he asked.

“Please your Grace, I need my mother’s papers.” 

The King sighed, “My dear, are you sure?”

“It’s time, Your Majesty,” Nan said and leaned in towards his frail voice.

Nan closed the door quietly and left the King and Queen to their moment before the fog crept back into his mind. The simple leather roll was heavier than a coffin in her hands. Insurance. 

The carriage rocked and swayed its way to Chamber House. Nan felt the air change and glimpsed the Crow reaching out for her again in the shadows.

“Not alone.”

“Never alone.”

“Remember.”

The wind carried the whispers and the pleas towards her.

She entered the kitchen to see Lorna staring at Brace.  
“They took him to the tower. Where no one will be kind enough to feed him arsenic.”  
Lorna turned to Nan in desperation.  
“What do we do?” she cried and looked aghast as Nan turned to leave.  
“Where are you going?” she demanded.  
“To the river,” Nan replied.  
He was struggling under the water, thrashing and twisting. Arrow, the torturer, continued to pour the water over the cloth covering his mouth. He was drowning.  
Struggling. Thrashing. Twisting.  
Then…floating.  
She was with him, saying nothing, but next to him, her hair waving like red foam in the water.  
Coop stepped forward and pulled the hood off his head. James spat out water.  
“What did you say? Mr. Delaney... What did you say?” demanded Coop.  
“Stuart Strange…” whispered James.  
Time passed erratically and she was still there, in the dungeon with him.  
James was laid flat and bound beneath a metal shroud with a metal mask over his face. A small Chinese man appeared from the shadows carrying a small earthenware flask. He began to shake it.  
“We are aware that you have a certain... er... capacity for pain. Which is why, we've invited Doctor Ling. His unearthly potions alter perceptions,” said Coop and stepped back to allow Mr. Ling to place a funnel into the mask and pour the potion. James sank into the water.  
Nan felt herself pushed aside by the encroaching visions James experienced. She didn’t fight it, she would be there when he returned. She floated in the water like an errant leaf caught in a current and waited.  
“Not alone.”

“Never alone.”

“Remember.”  
Coop, at the behest of the Prince Regent, finally gave James what he wanted and Stuart Strange was brought to the jail. Nan left him, he didn’t need her anymore.  
Crawling up the riverbank she looked like a creature dredged from the deep; freezing and exhausted she made her way back to Chamber House. She met Robert running the other way clutching a bundle of letters.  
“Are those his letters?” she demanded, grabbing the boy’s arm and he nodded.  
“Is there one for me?” and the boy shook his head and ran off.  
So, the final pieces were being moved and she was the rook; the king was making his move but needed her somewhere…anywhere on the board. It was time to choose her corner.  
She closed the bedroom door behind her and peeled off the muddied rags, skin turning blue in the cold. Something moved in the shadow of the room and Nan turned sharply. Her sister, still the wizened creature that had tried to drag her down, staggered out into the dim light.  
“You…called back…your power…” Elizabeth hissed.  
“Return to the dead, you are no longer here,” Nan ordered but her sister gave an awful and rattled laugh.  
“I will in a while…why are you helping this blue eyed devil?” she said, a black tongue exploring the sores on her lips.  
“Because he can help me,” Nan replied, trying not to look at the thing.  
“You don’t need help…what is he to you?” although this creature looked nothing like her sister as Nan had known her, there was a familiar tone…one that echoed back from their childhood.  
“He is a path to somewhere I want to go,” Nan said.  
“Home?” the thing sounded almost wistful.  
“Eventually but not yet,”  
“The Crow will take more from you than you think you can give,” Elizabeth hissed, “you think she can give you the answers but you don’t even know the questions yet,” and she gave her death rattle laugh, “I look forward to seeing you suffer, sister.”  
Nan leant into the dead face and searched it.  
“You died in fear and torment and for that I am sorry but you are nothing now…dehwelans dhe efarn,” the command echoed round the room and her sister was dragged back to the shadows, screaming and spitting. 

Before she disappeared completely, her sister screeched one final time, “the cholera eagle lies down with the lion…” and she was gone but her words remained.

How could Nan not have known? How could she have been so blind. Fuck…fuck, she’d taken him and still not known. Fucking Delaney, he’d made her sightless… they’d both pay and pay dearly. One sooner than the other but they’d both pay.

She heard the front door open and felt the familiar pressure of James’ presence.

“Witch,” he shouted and she descended the stairs.

“You were with me,” he stated, staring at her and she nodded.

“Why?” he asked, almost unsure.

“Because you had to be steadfast and that wasn’t guaranteed,” she replied.

“Why was it you that enabled me to do that?” he was still staring at her.

“You are my path,” she said simply.

“So, you walk on me?” his eyes became dangerous.  
“As you walk on others and our paths are the same…for now… I will break down their houses. This is how it started and I will end it the same way,” she said, echoing his words to Coop only a few hours before. James stepped back and she smiled.  
“Are we the same?” James asked but Nan didn’t answer.

“Now let me tell you of the eagle and the lion…” she said and he listened.

When she finished talking he grunted and nodded his head, he already knew. Nan returned to her room to gather what she needed and James opened the letter left for him.

When she came back downstairs she found him slumped in a chair, desolation infecting the room. She read Zilpha’s letter explaining her suicide but had no idea what to say. The front door banged and Lorna entered full of energy and triumph from her visit to Countess Musgrove but sensed something was amiss.

“What’s wrong?” she asked Nan.

“Nothing I can help with…he needs a mother’s hand I think,” Nan replied and left for the docks.


End file.
